Mr Jane and the big game
by MichaellaD
Summary: Jane and Lisbon go undercover as basketball coaches to solve a murder disguised as an accident with a hair dryer. (CNC - see profile)
1. Jane and Lisbon get a case

**A/N: So I didn't classify this as crossover fiction because it isn't really. That is to say, it is, but not in the way you're expecting. **

**Boy, this is harder to explain than I thought. I'm going to start at the beginning. I was rewatching some episodes of Monk recently and I was struck by the similarities between Monk and Jane. One thought led to another, and I started wondering how it would be if I took the plot and basic storyline from an episode of Monk and solved the case Jane's way. There are no characters from Monk involved, just one of the storylines. So (if you've seen the episode) the point would be how two different detectives use different methods to get at the same conclusion.**

**Got that? Great! You deserve a medal.**

**The episode in question is Mr. Monk and the Big Game (known informally as Jennifer Lawrence's Big Break). I did change one minor plot point: the murder occurs in a private school instead of a normal one. This is just so there's a reason the feds get called in.**

**It goes without saying that it's better if you've seen the Monk episode, but it's certainly not necessary. In the Mentalist universe, this is set after season 6, but I didn't really put any relationship segments in because it just muddied the waters.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Mentalist ****_or_**** Monk.**

**Now, without further ado, tally ho! and let's on with the story!**

* * *

><p>"Dennis, please. How often do I say please?"<p>

"George, I want to help, I do. But the coroner ruled that it was an accident."

"I know, I know. But there's no way Emily forgot to put away her hair dryer. She's extremely tidy. There's something they missed. There's got to be. Listen, you check it out, we'll be even."

Abbott sighed. "You realize if I send someone to check it out, they probably won't find anything new?"

"I do. But Emily's so upset. She could get charged with criminal negligence!"

Abbott rubbed his brow. "Okay, fine. I'll send my best man over. He's unconventional, I'm warning you. But he'll get the job done."

"Thanks, Dennis."

"Thank me if we find something."

* * *

><p>"Jane. Lisbon. I need you to check out a crime scene in San Francicso. A basketball coach was electrocuted in the locker room."<p>

They were sitting in Abbott's office.

"What happened?" Lisbon asked, ever the practical one.

"There was a leaky valve under one of the sinks. A towel was blocking the drain, so water spread all over the floor. One of the girls had left her hair dryer on the floor, plugged in. So when the coach stepped out of the shower and into the water, she was electrocuted."

"Sounds like a lot of coincidences."

"Well, the local police have ruled it an accident."

"Why are we going, then?" asked Lisbon.

"I want you and Jane to check it out. She died five days ago and the case hasn't officially been closed yet. Just go there and see if you think it's an accident. I've talked to the local police, they'll give you access to all the files and evidence. They've promised full cooperation."

Jane narrowed his eyes. "Someone called in a favour, didn't they. You're convinced it was an accident, but you're sending us just to shut him up."

Abbott sighed. They might as well know. Jane would just worm it out of him anyway. "It happened a private school that a Senator Jones' kids attend. His daughter Emily is the one who'd left behind her hair dryer. She might be charged with criminal negligence, and she's very upset. She insists that she _did_ put it away."

Lisbon looked down. This was just great. Here she was going to be Jane's babysitter, and it wasn't even for a murder. They stood up to leave.

"Oh, one more thing. Don't announce yourselves as FBI to anyone at the school except the principal, if you can help it. I don't want them to know we're working the case until you have definite proof that it was murder."

Jane grinned. "Sounds like fun!"

* * *

><p><em>17 Mueller Cres., San Francisco<em>  
><em>Senator Jones' residence<em>

"So, Senator Jones. I understand you believe Coach Hayden's death was not an accident."

"Well, it might have been. All I'm saying is that _Emily_ had nothing to do with it. Right Emily?"

A tall blond girl nodded faintly, not lifting her eyes from the floor.

Jane stepped into the conversation. "You're a terrible father."

"_What_?"

"I'm terribly sorry..."

Jane cut her off. "No, it's true. You don't care about your daughter getting charged. You only care because it might hurt your career."

Senator Jones stood up. "I will not stand here and let you insult me..."

"Oh don't worry. We'll still investigate. But we're doing it for your daughter, not for you." Lisbon made an inarticulate noise in the back of her throat. "Well, I'm pretty sure she'll be doing it for you," he amended, gesturing at Lisbon. She got up and started pulling him out of the house.

"But _I'll_ be doing it for Emily!" he shouted back before the door shut.

Father and daughter stared at the closed door.

* * *

><p><em>San Francisco Police department<em>  
><em>Station # 6<em>

"So you're the FBI agents I was told about." The SFPD unit captain looked them up and down.

"Uh- actually, he's a consultant."

"Oh," said Captain Hayes, clearly not caring. "Look, I don't know what you're doing here. It was an accident, plain and simple. I'm sorry, but I don't know how I can help you. Look. I'm juggling two drive-by shootings, an attempted murder, and, oh! a two-week old fire in Dratch Valley they've suddenly decided was arson."

"Sir, we were assured of your full cooperation..."

"Of course, of course. I'll give you everything you need. Just don't expect me to hold your hand every step of the way."

"Wouldn't dream of it," said Jane.

Captain Hayes turned away. "Charlie! Get these agents the evidence from the Hayden case."

"Right away boss."

Jane leaned down to Lisbon. "I like the good captain."

"Oh good," she retorted. "Does that mean there's one person in the city I won't have to worry about you insulting?"

He rocked back on his heels. "Nope."

Charlie plopped a box down in front of them. "Here you go."

There wasn't very much in the box. A jacket belonging to Coach Hayden that was missing a button, the notorious hairdryer, the towel, a burr that had come off the jacket, and a picture of some footprints on top of the lockers.

"That's a common type of boot. It matches the ones worn by a crew that came in to fix the lights there six weeks ago," Lieutenant Charlie explained, not entirely helpfully.

Jane picked up the hair dryer. "Look at his." There was black tape around the cord.

"So? People do that to fix the cord when it gets frayed."

"Sure. But look at the intake. Practically no dust. This girl buys a new hairdryer every couple months. There's no way she would mend the cord. She'd just get a new cord, if not a new hairdryer."

Lisbon sighed. "It's not proof of murder."

"No it's not," said Jane, peering at the tape.

"What?"

"Just wondering why the tape is cut so jaggedly."

Lisbon wanted to scoff at him, but she couldn't come up with any sort of explanation either.

She flipped through the file. "So there's a security camera right out side the locker room. Coach Hayden walked in 20 seconds before the last girl walked out, and no one else comes near until the janitor who discovered the body 6 hours later."

"Hmm," said Jane. "I think we can deduce that, if there was a killer, he didn't use the door. How uncivilized."

"The girl's fingerprints were on the dryer, but not on the tape. Interesting."

"There were prints on the tape, but they weren't clear," Charlie put in.

Lisbon nodded to the lieutenant. "Thanks for your help." She turned to Jane. "Well, school's out. Let's go meet the principal and visit the scene of the crime."

* * *

><p><em>1756 Frobisher Boul., San Francisco<br>Ashton Private School_

They walked in the main entrance. Jane meandered over to the trophy case.

"I'll never understand why they keep these in plain sight, right next to an exit. Shouldn't they be locked in a vault?"

Lisbon looked at Jane like he was crazy. "Who would steal a bunch of old trophies?"

"Oh, maybe someone who'd never won anything in his whole life, whose mother has a spot on the mantel just waiting for one of these?"

Lisbon rolled her eyes. "Come on. The secretary said Principal Franklin was in a meeting, but that we can go check out the locker room."

Jane zeroed in on the 'killer plug' as he termed it the instant the entered the room. He carefully examined it from all angles while Lisbon looked on impatiently.

"Did you find anything?" she asked sarcastically.

"I did! Look at this."

Lisbon peered at where he was pointing. "What? It is a perfectly normal plug."

"It appears to be, yes. But notice - it has dust along the bottom edge and not the top."

"Then the maintenance crew screwed it back on upside down when they fixed it. Problem solved."

"Tsk, tsk, Lisbon. You're not getting into the spirit of this," Jane lamented as he took a credit card and started unscrewing the plaque.

"What are you doing?"

"Unscrewing this."

"I know that. Why?"

The plaque fell off the wall and into his hand. "Ah ha!" There, plain as day, was a loose wire. "They_ didn't_ fix it!" Jane exclaimed triumphantly.

Lisbon sighed. "The only criminal act you've uncovered is that there isn't a warning sign."

Jane looked around. "Those boot footprints - I'll bet they're right there." He pointed at a drab gray locker, identical to every one of the 49 other drab grey lockers in the row.

"How do you know?"

He raised his finger an inch. "That window has less cobwebs than the others. He climbed in and out that way. No cameras. Then, in the yard, he could just dress as one of the janitorial staff."

Lisbon groaned. "Why are so determined all of the sudden that it was murder?"

"Emily." Lisbon stared at him. "She would never dare disappoint her father. So she keeps all aspects of her life meticulously tidy. She would never have left her hairdryer out." Lisbon knew better than to doubt his analysis.

"Well, I want to see if those footprints are _actually_ there."

Jane put his hand on his heart. "You doubt me?"

"Every day. Now give me a boost."

Jane positioned himself by the locker in question, hands at the ready. Lisbon put her foot on his palms and heaved herself up using the lockers. She hung there, balanced precariously. "A little higher," she grunted.

"I think you need to go on a diet," Jane groaned. "You're getting heavy."

She swiped at him with her other foot, throwing them off balance. Jane lost his grip, and she crashed full-length against the lockers, still hanging on desperately to the top of the locker. She dropped awkwardly to the ground.

"See? You should never injure someone who's holding you."

"Bite me," she snapped.

"Well, were the footprints there?"

She pulled out her phone, not deigning to answer.

"Ah, so they were. I thought so."

Lisbon put the phone to her ear with a toss of her hair.

"Hello, sir? We've just finished going over the file and the crime scene." Pause. "Jane says it's murder." Pause. "It's based on some dust on a plug and footprints that may have been left by a repair crew." Muffled swearing.

Jane grinned. "Put it on speakerphone."

Lisbon turned her back on him. He narrowed his eyes. Before she knew anything the phone was in his hand.

"Hey Dennis. You really should relax. Your heart, you know." Pause. "The next logical step is to go undercover."

Lisbon gaped at him. "Did you say _logical_?"

"Their basketball coach just died and they have a championship coming up on Friday. We'll be the fill-in coaches."

"Wait a minute," Lisbon interjected. "How do you know there's a championship game on Friday?"

Jane jerked his thumb at a handmade poster tacked to the wall behind him.

STATE CHAMPIONSHIP GAME ON FRIDAY! GO COUGARS! it read.

"Oh," she muttered.

"Well I could have set this up before consulting you," Jane was saying. "Doesn't this prove how responsible I am?" Pause. "No, you don't need to send Cho and Fischer yet. Bye!"

"What did he say?"

"I think he said to be careful."

"Think?" The truth started to dawn on her. "Jane, you hung up on him, didn't you."

"Don't worry about it. He won't care."

"Jane! That's our boss! You can't just hang up on him!"

"Come on. Let's go see Principal Franklin!" He was gone before she could throttle him. And, wait a minute - he still had her phone!

The secretary showed them into the office and said the principal would be there shortly.

Sitting in the uncomfortable chairs, Lisbon glared at Jane.

"What?"

"Me? As a basketball coach? Have you lost your mind?"

"Actually I was going to be the coach."

She snorted. "Please. The most physical thing you do is stir your tea. I haven't played basketball in almost thirty years! Being the shortest kid in class kind of puts a damper on any plans in that direction."

"No one will notice your height." Jane grinned. This was turning into a wonderfully entertaining case.

"And now I'll have to study up on how to coach basketball!" She crossed her arms. "I hate undercover. So much homework."

The principal walked in at that moment. "Remembering your high school experiences?" She smiled. "Agents Lisbon and Jane, I understand."

Jane put up his hand. "I'm a consultant, actually."

"Mr. Jane, you don't have to raise your hand to speak."

"Just call me Jane."

Lisbon decided it was time to take control of the conversation. "We need to ask you a few questions."

"Of course."

"Did Coach Hayden seem any different in the days leading up to her murder?"

"Now that you mention it, the day before the... incident, she was crying in the teacher's lounge. I didn't think anything about it. A lot of out teachers cry quite a lot." Jane grinned appreciatively. "Are you sure she was murdered?"

"Sure as can be," Jane said.

She winced.

Jane continued. "We need to collect more information, but we want this to stay quiet for now. So we're going to go undercover as the replacement coach. Only until the championship. We'll have everything we need by then. Three days. Then you can hire whoever you want."

Lisbon felt for the poor woman. She looked completely bewildered. "Do you have any experience with basketball?"

"Oh yes." He indicated Lisbon. "She played varsity ball all four years of high school." Principal Franklin looked over at her, trying to hide her scepticism.

Silently cursing him, Lisbon nodded energetically. "And he'll be my _assistant _coach." She glared at him.

He put up his hand. Principal Franklin raised her eyebrows. "I told you before, you don't have to raise your hand to speak."

"Principal Franklin, Lisbon's staring at me!"

Lisbon rolled her eyes. "Now we need to talk to Emily Jones," she mused. "She already knows we're FBI."

"Oh, that's no problem," said the principal. "I can just call her to the office before morning classes."

Lisbon smiled gratefully. "That would be perfect."

Jane put up his hand again. Both women glared at him. He dropped it. "Never mind, it's not important," he said cheerfully.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: This was supposed to be a one-page story but this is already closing in on 3 000 words and I don't believe chapters should be longer than that. So stay tuned for another one or two chapters!**


	2. Jane and Lisbon learn a little more

Jane and Lisbon split up the next day and managed between the two of them to discreetly reach most of the teachers in the school. When they pooled their information at the end of the day, they'd found out that Coach Hayden only had one friend outside of work - Krista Bonnevin - and her only family was her brother Aaron.

Lisbon put interviewing them at the top of her mental to-do list. They'd also discovered that Coach Hayden didn't have an enemy in the school and was a model teacher. All the students liked her, especially the girls in her classes.

Which, as Jane put it, "in a place like this, full of stuck-up rich kids, is nothing short of a miracle."

Lisbon changed into shorts and a green sports top for her first experience at coaching. Jane refused to wear anything but his usual accoutrements.

"I'm assistant coach, anyway," he said, passing off unnecessary something as insignificant as _fitting in_. (He did covertly ogle her whenever she turned her back. Lisbon in shorts was a rare and wonderful experience.)

Basketball practise started at 3:30pm sharp. Lisbon gathered the girls into the centre circle to give them a pep talk it turned out they didn't need.

"Coach Hayden would want us to finish what we started" appeared to be the general consensus, and while there were some girls who still seemed shook up they were all ready to work.

Lisbon started out the practise by putting them through a shooting drill. Jane's contribution throughout the whole workout consisted of running up and down the sidelines and repeating everything she said.

"Let the ball _roll_ off your fingers, Kamilah!"

"_Off_ your fingers, Kamilah! That's it!"

"A little faster, Teager!"

"Faster, faster! Come on!"

"Lead with your other foot, Kimberly!"

"God, Kimberly! The _other_ foot!"

There was a slight mixup when Lisbon tried to counsel Emily.

"Keep your passes low, Emily!"

Two blond girls stopped play and looked at her. "Which one?"

Lisbon was flummoxed. The tall blonde pointed at the short one and said: "She's Emily C.", just as the short blonde pointed at the tall one and said: "She's Emily J."

"You didn't _know_ that, Lisbon?" Jane was enjoying himself far too much.

"Both of you," said Lisbon, taking the easy way out. "Keep your passes low and direct!"

"Come on, girls, you know that! Low and direct. Right where you want them to go!"

After half an hour of this Lisbon was ready to kill him. Something that only made it worse was that she seemed to be the only person in the gym who was bothered by his antics. In fact, the girls seemed to listen to him a little better than to her. Teager ran a little faster, Kamilah adjusted her shot, the Emilys' passes hit their marks, and Kimberly paid more attention to her footwork - but it almost seemed like they waited for the words to come out of _Jane_'s mouth.

She blew her whistle to signal the girls that it was time for a ball handling drill. Jane appeared over her shoulder.

"I want one of the those."

She jumped a mile. "One of what?" she asked grumpily.

"A whistle. I want one so the girls will look at me when they hear a whistle. And a clipboard to wave around would be nice." He smiled hopefully.

All in all, she was very grateful when the hour practise was over and the girls began filing out.

"Great work girls. Don't forget to have fun!"

"But winning's important too!" he chimed in. She glared at him. Really, Jane. Was that necessary? "But having fun's more important!" he added, ducking theatrically. Lisbon couldn't help but notice that while a couple girls smiled at her as they left, almost all of them smiled at Jane.

She couldn't shower until the girls were done, so she and Jane were alone in the gym for now.

"Winning's important?" she asked, mustering up every ounce of sarcasm she possessed.

"They're thinking it, I thought I might as well say it."

"It's not appropriate for an _assistant_ coach to say."

"So you, as main coach, could say it."

"No! People play sports for the experience, not the trophy."

"The lady doth protest too much, methinks." He tilted his head to the side. "So why do you want this trophy so much?"

"I don't! Well, if these girls lose, they'll probably blame us for messing up their chances, so I care in that way, but if we catch a killer we'll likely be forgiven, so _that_ is my priority. Besides, since we're undercover agents, we couldn't keep it."

Jane raised his eyebrows. "Why, Lisbon, I had no idea you've never won a trophy! Don't worry, they're more bother than they're worth. All that dusting..."

It was at this point that they noticed Emily J. staring at them.

Jane, always unflappable, smiled at her. "Don't be shy! Come on over. What do you want to tell us?"

Head bent, she edged over. "I was thinking about Coach Hayden. I really want to help. So I thought about everything that happened the week before... you know, and I remembered something weird she said right before she died." Her lips were trembling.

Lisbon led her over to the bench. "It's all right. Take your time."

Emily J. swallowed and nodded her head. "She was giving us a pep talk, and she said: 'You're always going to be champions, no matter who's coaching you.' So after I asked what she meant, 'cause I was scared she was quitting, and she said she just meant that the team, the girls on the team, were much more important than she was. That made sense, so I forgot about it." She was struggling not to cry. "Do you think she knew she was going to die?"

Jane and Lisbon exchanged looks over her head. "That's very interesting," said Lisbon. "Thank you for telling us. It's very helpful."

Emily J. was twisting her hands in her lap. "She was more important than the team to _me_, anyway," she said softly.

"Did Coach Hayden give you that necklace?" Jane asked, pointing at the arrowhead hanging around her neck. "I noticed all the girls have one."

"Yeah. She went on a camping trip to Dratch Valley and brought one back for all the girls on the team. We've all vowed never to take them off." She was looking a little more animated.

Jane seemed to find this news earthshattering. His eyes widened. Lisbon stared at him. "Well, I'm going to take a shower. You should too, Lisbon," he announced. "Hurry up!" Lisbon and Emily J. stared at his departing back.

"Is Coach Jane really with the FBI?" asked the girl.

"_Coach_ Jane?"

"Yeah, he asked us to call him that."

Lisbon rolled her eyes. "Yeah, he's with the FBI. Why do you ask?"

"I asked him to help me with a project I'm doing on DNA because I have to interview a police officer, but he said some really funny things. Like, weird."

"What did he say?" asked Lisbon resignedly.

"He said DNA was invented by Rick Warren..."

Lisbon groaned. "It was _discovered_ by _Crick _and_ Watson_. What else?"

"Uh, I don't have anything to write this down on."

Lisbon cast around. No paper nearby. "Here." She handed her her clipboard.

"Thanks." She started scribbling. "He said identical twins have the same DNA. Is that true?"

"Yes," said Lisbon, relieved that he'd gotten at least one thing right. "And close family members have very similar DNA. When we run DNA through the system, we sometimes get a 'near miss'. That means it's a family member's DNA."

Emily J. nodded. "When do you take a sample of a person's DNA? Coach Jane said whenever you like."

"No... We need a warrant to get a person's DNA without their permission. But it's standard procedure with felony arrests. That way, when a crime happens, we run any DNA we find through the database to see if we can match it to anyone."

"But if their DNA isn't in there, you won't know who did it, right?"

"If there's no other leads, then no."

"All right. Thanks."

"No problem. Next time, don't go to Jane."

Emily J. winked. "Sure thing, Coach Lisbon."

Jane came out with wet hair as the girl exited. "You like her, I can tell."

Lisbon crossed her arms. "'Rick Warren'? Really?"

"_I_ thought it was inspired."

Lisbon snorted. "Yeah, until the poor girl flunks biology."

"Meh. She's clever. She knew something was wrong." He lowered his voice. "Listen. I've got an idea where we can find a motive for Coach Hayden's murder."

The girls started to file out of the locker room.

"Bye Coach Jane!"

"Bye Coach Jane, Coach Lisbon!"

Emily J. was the only girl who didn't say goodbye to Jane, although there were plenty of girls who didn't acknowledge Lisbon. Jane noticed her glowering and grinned.

* * *

><p>She was still grumpy when they got back to the hotel. Jane figured he better pacify her by telling her his theory, instead of teasing her with it like he'd been planning to. Even he wasn't stupid enough to bug her about three things at once.<p>

"So where is this motive? It would really be useful, if you actually have one."

"I didn't say I _had_ it, I said I knew where we could _find_ it."

"Fine. Where?"

"Dratch Valley. Two weeks ago."

Lisbon sat up. "Right! That's why it sounded familiar! The fire two weeks ago the captain was talking about!"

"We need to go to Dratch Valley and see what we can find. I think she saw who set that fire. Maybe we'll find some evidence."

"But what about Aaron and Krista? We need to talk to them."

"We have two days before the game. We can talk to them day after tomorrow. Besides, we kind of need something to go on."

"Fine. I'll call the rangers at Dratch Valley and get us a guide."

When Lisbon crawled into bed later that night, Jane rolled over and trailed his fingers down her cheek. "You don't have to be jealous, you know."

"Jealous of who?"

"The girls we're coaching. I know they like me better than you, but there's nothing I can do about it. Simple biology."

She sat up, glaring. "I am _not_ jealous of those girls! They're only 14 years old!"

He sat up as well. "You are exactly right. And unfortunately for them, I happen to prefer women my own age."

"Some of those girls, honestly... The way they behave! But you were egging them on. Don't deny it."

"Mmm. I see I'll have to convince you that you were the _only one_ I had my eyes on all day." He started kissing her neck. "You look great in shorts, you know."

"Jane... regardless..."

"What?" he asked, pulling her closer.

She sighed with pleasure. "Never mind." She drew his face up to hers. "I've forgotten."

* * *

><p><em>Dratch Valley, Calif.<br>Dratch Valley park and campground_

They had been walking for half an hour by the time Ranger McAdams crested the ridge at the epicentre of the burned area.

"So this was the point of origin," he said, pointing at a charred bush. Lisbon had no intention of contradicting him, but that particular bush looked no different than any of the others she'd seen.

"Fweeet!" Lisbon ducked and put her hand on her gun. She looked over at Jane. He had a whistle hanging out of his mouth. "Right there, Lisbon," he affirmed, indicating the bush. "Point of origin. Fweet!"

"A whistle? Are you insane?" It was all she could do not to actually pull her gun on him.

"What? You have one."

"Put that away!" she hissed.

McAdams was looking at them strangely. Jane dropped the whistle from his mouth (it hung on a lanyard) and gestured at him. "Please, go on."

The ranger stared at them a moment longer, then shook his head and turned away. "Well, someone was camping here" - he designated, with no apparent reason, a particular patch of ground - "without a permit, had a fire going, and the wind shifted East to North." He pointed up the ridge.

"FWEET!" Lisbon winced. "_East_ to North. Got it." Jane stared intelligently directly northwest.

She leaned over to McAdams. "It's his first whistle."

The ranger's eyebrows appeared to have permanently disappeared under his hairline, but he politely continued his summary. "The brush around here is bone-dry. Those branches probably caught first, then it spread downwind, and once it hits the valley - well, there's no stopping it.

"So the fire was moving - fwuuuuuIIIIIITT!" Jane's whistle grew ear-piercingly loud as he swooped his arm up in the direction of the ridge, as an approximation of the path of the fire. "- _up_ the hill." He stared up at the sky as if he expected a clue to drop down and hit Lisbon on the head.

McAdams couldn't keep it in any longer. "Are you with the arson squad, Mr. Jane?"

Jane lowered his gaze to more earthly objects - in this case, a portly ranger. "No. I'm a consultant for the FBI." He managed to smile around the whistle in his teeth. "And call me Coach. Coach Jane."

Lisbon gave a snort of disgust. "Can we concentrate on the fire? You know, the thing we're here for?"

"All right, woman. Patience. Let's see what we can find here..." Tweetling on his whistle, Jane commenced wandering around, touching a twig here, turning over a rock there.

"Wheet-wheet-wheet!" Jane looked up sharply. A small sparrow was sitting in a scorched tree, singing at him.

"Tweedle-eedle-eet!"

"Wheet-wheedle-wheet!" the bird responded.

Jane turned his head toward Lisbon and McAdams. He looked like the cat that ate the proverbial canary. Lisbon raised her eyebrows and nodded, a pinched smile on her face. McAdams simply looked shell-shocked.

"Fweet?"

"Wheet?"

Jane did a little dance step. The bird, startled, flew off. "Awww," said Jane through his whistle.

"Was there anybody hurt?" asked Lisbon of the ranger.

"No, just property damage. Summer homes."

"Whoever set the fire probably ran that way," mused Jane, pointing down the easiest path.

The ranger shook his head. "Not that it isn't fascinating to watch you work, but I'm going to wait by the Jeep."

"I'll whistle if I need you!" called Jane.

"I'm sure you will," he said, a resigned look on his face.

Jane started walking down the hill. He tripped on a rock and fell flat on his face. Lisbon couldn't help laughing. "I could really be hurt, now!" he pouted.

"No such luck," she said, grinning.

"Wait," he said suddenly. He held up a button. "This is the button the was missing off Coach Hayden's coat!"

Lisbon examined the button. No doubt about it, he was right.

Jane started warbling away again on his whistle.

"Please don't."

"I helps me think," he explained soulfully. Finally losing patience, Lisbon yanked it out of his mouth and pulled the lanyard off his neck. Jane felt his teeth. "Ow!"

She stuffed the whistle in her pocket and looked around. "It's not exactly conclusive evidence, but I see burrs everywhere around us. I'm willing to bet the burr on Hayden's coat came from here. I think it's pretty obvious that Coach Hayden herself set this fire."

"BREEEEEET!" Lisbon froze, her shoulders hunched up around her ears. "Excellent work Lisbon! I think so too."

She turned around, agonizingly slowly. Jane stood there with another whistle in his hand. His smile was dazzling.

"I always carry a backup whistle."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Fun Fact** **- The ranger in the Monk episode is the actor who plays Minelli, in a fat suit!**


	3. Jane and Lisbon catch the killer

**A/N: I should have mentioned this before (I hope yous aren't ready to strangle me), but this story is not the kind of mystery where you can figure out the plot ahead of time. You haven't even met the killer yet, and why he did it is going to come straight out of left field.**

**Still, I hope I've made the journey to the conclusion enjoyable.**

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><p>They made it back to practise with ten minutes to spare. Lisbon ran over plays with the girls and Jane mercifully kept the whistling to a minimum (after she threatened him with dismemberment).<p>

They went out to supper that night but couldn't seem to concentrate on anything but the case.

"I don't get it," said Lisbon, sawing with unnecessary vigour at her steak. "So she set the fire. Why on earth would that lead to her being murdered?"

"I have to admit that I can't think of a reason right now."

"Maybe we're clutching at straws. What if the captain was right? Is it so impossible that it was an accident?"

"Yes. That plaque was definitely tampered with. And there's still something I can't figure out about that hairdryer..."

Lisbon sighed. "We're basing what appears to be a wild-goose chase on evidence that wouldn't sway anyone who doesn't know how you operate." She gave him a stern look.

"Why, Teresa, I'm so glad you have such faith in me!" His smile was as wide as ever, but there was an extra tenderness about his eyes.

She pointed her fork at him. "Maybe your original theory was right. She saw something at that ridge, it just wasn't someone setting a fire. She saw something else."

"It's possible, but there's a more elemental question here. Why would she set the fire in the first place? Everyone, absolutely everyone we talked to said she was a model teacher. Not the type to rum amok and destroy other people's property."

"Maybe she was a pyromaniac."

"Mmm... I don't think so."

Lisbon eyed him with annoyance. "Do you have a _reason_ for saying that, or are you just being contrary?"

"Her office. She had a small, unlighted, candle sitting on her desk. Now if she were a pyromaniac, she would be deeply ashamed of it. She wouldn't want it to get out, so she would avoid anything to do with fire. In her mind, having a candle would be like a red flag; everyone would know that she liked setting fires. Or, conversely, if she wanted a candle nearby because of her urges, she wouldn't be able to keep herself from lighting it."

Lisbon stared in disbelief. "In addition to being possibly the worst piece of psychology I've ever heard, what if she'd just gotten the candle that day and hadn't had the chance to light it yet?"

He grinned at her. "There was a light film of dust on it. I strongly recommend that you never go into housecleaning, my dear. You can't spot dust to save your life."

She glared at him, trying to hide her smile. "That's why I make you do the housecleaning. Anyway, this has gotten us absolutely nowhere. Let's hope the best friend and brother can give us something tomorrow."

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><p><em>537 United Way, San Francisco<br>Krista Bonnevin's residence_

Krista turned out to be a very down-to-earth, steady woman. Lisbon had a shrewd suspicion that her and Hayden had been two peas in a pod. It certainly made her job easier. Though her friend's death had plainly been a blow, there was no danger of her breaking down.

"One of the girls mentioned that Coach Hayden seemed to suspect that she wouldn't be teaching for much longer," Jane said, holding a cup of tea in his hand.

Krista nodded. Lisbon looked at her in surprise. "You knew she knew?"

Krista wasn't fazed by Lisbon's abstruse sentence construction. "She was going to resign. She would have gotten fired anyway. It was a preemptive measure."

"Why was she getting fired?"

"She was camping in Dratch Valley two weeks ago. She didn't have a permit - but that wasn't her fault. She'd bought it over the phone, and some idiot clerk didn't give a camping permit but a fishing one. She didn't find out 'til she showed up with all her gear to collect the permit. She was in a snit because they wouldn't give her a refund so she just went camping anyway. I say good for her." This last was spoken quietly, not defiantly.

Lisbon was not going to get herself drawn into an argument respecting the rightness or wrongness of the issuing and subsequent misuse of permits. "So she was camping along the ridge. What happened?"

"The wind shifted. Her fire took off. She barely made it out of there with her stuff, and all she had was a knapsack's worth."

"So it was an accident."

Krista's chin came up; her eyes flashed. "Of course it was. She wasn't going to say anything at first. As far as anyone knew, she hadn't been anywhere near that ridge. But then she heard about the summer homes that got damaged, and it started to work on her conscience. She was going to turn herself into the police."

"When?"

"The day after she was killed. It would have been sooner but her brother just about manged to talk her out of it."

"Her brother. Why?"

"I don't know that. Lynn didn't say."

Jane decided it was time to put his two cents in. "It's only fair to tell you that Lynn Hayden was murdered."

Krista gave a small gasp. So did Lisbon. She opened her mouth but Jane cut her off.

"Did you kill her?"

Krista looked him straight in the eye. "No."

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><p><em>95 Mufferaw St.<br>Aaron Hayden's residence_

The interview started out normally. That is, Lisbon sat on the couch asking questions while Jane wandered around the living room.

"We understand that you tried to talk your sister out of turning herself in. Why was that?"

Aaron Hayden was a small fidgety man. "They would have charged her with a felony." He looked up plaintively. "She would have lost her teaching license. Teaching was her whole _life_! It wasn't worth it. Nobody got hurt, right?" he added dolorously.

"She didn't see it that way, though," Jane called out.

Aaron turned around so he could see Jane. "No, not my sister. She always had to do the right thing." He gave the impression of somehow being simultaneously cheered and dejected by this thought. "It's what she taught her kids, and she didn't want to be a hypocrite."

"There's going to be a ceremony in honour of her at the game tonight. Are you planning to attend?" asked Lisbon.

"Yeah, I'll be there." He picked a framed picture of his sister from off the coffee table in front of him. "The school asked me to find a picture for the memorial board in the locker rooom. I think this is the best one I have."

"It's definitely a very pretty picture. I'm sure it's exactly what they're looking for."

"Was this your sister's?" Jane pointed at a modest golfing trophy from the Conrad Country Club sitting on the mantel.

Aaron turned around again. "No. That's mine. My sister doesn't golf." He turned back to Lisbon. Jane stepped forward quickly.

"Why are you so protective of it then?"

"What?"

"The whole time I was near it you were incredibly nervous. Why?"

"You're not making any sense."

"Your sister was murdered," said Jane, switching tacks. "Did you do it?"

Aaron was cowering in his chair as if he expected Jane to strike him. "I thought it was an accident?" he practically whimpered.

Lisbon stood up quickly. "Thank you for your time..."

Jane picked up Coach Hayden's picture. "This _is_ nice. But the frame is cracked. Don't you think you should fix that?"

Aaron nodded, eyes wide. "I was going to." He took it from Jane.

Lisbon grabbed Jane's arm and tried to drag him out of the house. At the doorway he turned back and pointed his finger at the picture, still in Aaron's arms. "You really should fix that."

Aaron stared back mutely. Lisbon dug her nails into Jane's arm and pulled with a little more determination.

"Ow, woman! I'm coming!"

"What was that?" she screeched when they were back in the car. She wasn't responsible for Jane's fallout anymore but old habits die hard. She still often raked him over the coals.

"He's hiding something," announced Jane without preamble.

Lisbon started the car. "Did he do it?" she asked, clenching the steering wheel as she turned into the traffic. "Because if he didn't, you just terrorized a perfectly innocent man."

"It's a definite possibility. He's hiding something, but whether it's the murder of his sister or something else I can't tell yet. If we'd stayed a little longer I could have figured it out." He turned to her accusingly.

"Yeah, that wasn't happening. You have no motive and no proof. Find either one and we'll take him to interrogation. _Until that point_, we are going to treat him as an innocent man!"

Jane settled back in his seat. "So tense! Stop worrying about the game, Lisbon. You saw the girls at practise yesterday, you know they're good."

"Will you please shut up about that game?"

"Not while it has you so upset. Relax! Ashton will definitely take home the trophy."

"I am _not_ worried about that stupid trophy!"

"You would be more convincing if you weren't white-knuckling the steering wheel."

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><p>Jane came up to her 15 minutes before the ceremony. "Are Aaron and Krista here yet?"<p>

"Yes. They just showed up."

"Good. We'll have figured out who killed Coach Hayden and why by the end of the game."

Lisbon stared. "You know?"

"No, not yet. But I will by the end of the game." His smile was blinding.

"_Jane_..."

"Oh, and Abbott's coming up with the team. They'll be here in about 10 minutes. Fischer, Cho, Wiley, I figured I'd invite them. They need to take some time and kick back every now and then."

"So you thought a ninth-grade basketball game was exactly what they would go for."

"Sure! Who wouldn't want in on the action?"

"Jane, whatever your plan is, just - _please_ - don't wreck the game. Or the gym. Or the school."

"Of course, my dear Lisbon."

And he seemed to take it to heart. He didn't do anything throughout Principal Franklin's eulogy, had his head bowed properly for the two minutes of silence, stood at attention during the national anthem, and didn't spout nonsense in the pre-game pep talk. He was doing so well that Lisbon let him keep his whistle for the game. He was pretty quiet with it, too - at first.

A cheerful middle-aged man leaned over to Abbott in the bleachers. "Which one's yours?"

Abbott looked at him for a moment then pointed at the Cougars' bench. "The big one with the whistle."

At that precise moment, 'the big one with the whistle' was celebrating a three-pointer with shrill blasts and what could only be described as a jazz dance routine. The audience was on its feet for it.

The referee came over. "Cut that out!" He held out his hand. Jane held up the whistle sadly. The ref nodded. He placed it in his hand (Lisbon breathed a sigh of relief). There was a chorus of boos from the crowd and play resumed.

Lisbon was doing pretty well, but there was one thing that was driving her up the wall - the Cougars' mascot. It was doing all sorts of flips and jumping around and screaming cheers in her ear. Unfortunately, since she was the Cougars' coach, she couldn't exactly tell it to shove off. Then she pointed at Kimberly to tell her to help the defense and that stupid cat grabbed her arm and pretended to chew on it, to the delight of the audience and Jane. She wrenched her arm away and glared at it, ready to tell it off, and that's what made her miss it.

She'd taken her eyes of the game for _5 seconds_, and everything was chaos. Teager was on the ground, the ref was calling a foul, and Jane was getting in the ref's face.

"Are you blind? She was moving her feet! That was a block!"

The ref remained unimpressed. "Back on the bench."

"You're a joke," Jane muttered loud enough for everyone within twenty feet to hear.

The ref turned around and very deliberately called out: "Technical foul. Coach Jane." He narrowed his eyes. "Now who's the joke?"

"It's still you!"

"All right." The ref jerked his thumb toward the locker room. "You're gone."

"What?" Lisbon was about to storm over to the ref when Jane held her back.

"It's okay. Finish the game. I'll be fine."

"It's not you I'm worried about, it's whatever you're going to do!" she retorted. He jogged off to the girls' locker room. It was open to the public at the moment anyway because of the memorial board.

He grinned when he saw Lynn Hayden's picture. Her brother had fixed the frame with electrician's tape. He'd obviously grabbed whatever he'd had to hand. But wait a minute - Jane took the picture off the wall. Was that what he thought it was?

Back on the court, Lisbon was fit to be tied. The lead kept bouncing back between the two teams, neither one managing to carve out for themselves any real advantage. 18-20 for, 30-26 against...

And now that obnoxious feline was back again. No matter what she did it refused to leave her alone. And it had Coach Hayden's picture in its paws too! Could it be more disrespectful? The cat leaned right up into her face.

"Go away!" She swatted at it.

"It's me!" came Jane's voice.

She peered into the grille that filled its maw. She couldn't see a thing. "Jane?" she yelled over the crowd's roar.

"Yes! You need to call a time-out! I need to talk to you! I know who did it!"

"Get Abbott and the others!"

"Right! Give me a sec!" He bounced away to the team's section of bleachers. They were sitting in the second row. He leaned over a heavyset matron and her sister and pawed at Abbott's leg.

His boss looked at the mascot in irritation. "Don't touch me. I've got a gun."

"It's Jane! Come on over to the bench!"

"You got evicted!" Abbot hissed. Jane was already on his way back to Lisbon, waving at them.

Lisbon called a time-out. With the girls and the FBI unit listening closely, Jane outlined his theory. It was very short.

"It's the brother."

"Do you know why?" That was Cho.

The cat pointed at him. "No. But I have proof now. Look at this picture!" Lisbon squinted, then gasped.

Everyone looked at her. "What?"

"That tape has jagged edges! It was cut the same way as the tape on the hair dryer!"

Everyone stared at each other then swivelled around to look for the brother.

Several things happened at once. The referee came over and said the time-out was over and to get their butts back on the field. Aaron Hayden stood up and made a break for the exit. Fischer and Cho took up the chase. Lisbon would have followed if Jane hadn't reminded her that there was a game she was coaching. Wiley and Abbott went back to their seats.

The clock was ticking down in the final quarter. Lisbon was at the nail-biting stage. 53-52, Cougars. Two seconds on the clock. Ball in the opposing end.

Then one of the girls on the other team heaved a hail mary across the court. Time slowed down.

The ball spun through the air... The clock was at .8 seconds... And swoosh went the net just before the buzzer went.

Lisbon sat down heavily. She was crushed. She couldn't help it. Jane sat down beside her, his paw around her shoulders.

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><p>Aaron Hayden confessed to everything after fifteen minutes in interrogation. He had killed a girl by accident two years ago, at the Conrad Country Club. He'd taken a wild swing with a golf club without noticing she was right behind him. He'd panicked and ran. No one would ever have figured out he'd done it. Although he'd left plenty of DNA evidence behind, there was nothing linking him to the girl, and the investigation petered out.<p>

But then his sister explained that she was going to turn herself in for setting a forest fire and he realized that, as was standard with a felony, they would take a sample of her DNA. Being his sister, when they ran it through the system it would come up as a near miss for the Conrad Club murder. When he found he couldn't talk her out of it, he decided the only way to stay out of jail would be to stage her death as an accident.

Jane told everyone who would listen that his plan all along had been to get Aaron to use the electrician's tape to fix the picture frame. No one, not even Wiley, believed him.

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><p>Lisbon was sitting at her desk when the delivery man came in.<p>

"I got a couple crates here for 'Teresa Lisbon'?"

"Here," she said, completely mystified. She signed the purchase order and opened the first box. "JANE!"

He strolled in. "What?"

She indicated the three boxes sitting on her desk. "Do you mind explaining?"

"Certainly not. You were so upset over losing the game I decided to cheer you up."

"I was not - _that_ - upset!"

"Don't worry about it anymore, because now you have 286 trophies to take home!"

Lisbon goggled. She couldn't think of a thing to say.

"One for every case we've solved together." He beamed at her. She looked down at the crates on her desk. It was that many? She'd lost track years ago.

She couldn't stop the smile spreading over her face.

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><p><strong>AN: In case you're wondering, the 286 cases thing was a stab in the dark.**

**So here is the end of my first... whatever you call it. Hope you liked it!**


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